


Battle of the Bands

by vanillafluffy



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Band Fic, Other, Past Relationship(s), We don't need no civil war
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-24
Updated: 2018-03-24
Packaged: 2019-04-07 11:54:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14080353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanillafluffy/pseuds/vanillafluffy
Summary: Captain America, Iron Man, and The Asgardians are all bands, competing for a record deal.





	Battle of the Bands

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Brumeier](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brumeier/gifts).



Pietro slips through a gap in the curtains separating Captain America from the other groups participating in the battle of the bands. Steve is lacing up his lucky shoes, Wanda looks up from her keyboards and pulls down her headphones for her brother’s report. 

“The band to beat is Iron Man, everybody says.” Pietro looks serious, for him. “They’ve got fancy costumes and top of the line everything.”

“Doesn’t mean they can play for shit,” drawls Clint, twirling drumsticks in either hand.

“They have an RV with their name on it,” Wanda contributes. “I saw it in the parking lot when I went after my phone in the van.”

“All we can do is play our best,” Steve tells them firmly. “This recording contract that’s up for grabs--I don’t have to tell you what that could mean for us. We could--”

The curtain flutters again, and in slouches their bassist Bucky, who’s also been reconnoitering. 

“Pietro says we should be concerned about a band called ‘Iron Man’” Steve tells him. 

Bucky waves off the intel. “Nah, they’re all style, no substance. They dress like a cross between David Bowie and the last days of glam and they mostly play covers. They’re not the ones to worry about. The Asgardians are here.”

“Who are they?” Wanda asks. “I’ve never eve heard of them.”

“I saw them a few months ago at the St. George.” Bucky looks grim. “They’re a trio. Keyboard, guitar, singer…just like The Doors, except their frontman is crazier than Morrison ever dreamed of being. He went off on this spoken word rant for like, ten minutes, the audience was just hypnotized--they’re not great, musically speaking, but they make up for it with the cult of personality.”

“Swell,” Steve is determined to be positive. “So we have to work for it. We can do this!”

Behind the curtain, an eavesdropper smiles and makes her way back to where Iron Man is gathered with their gear.

“You were right,” she tells Tony, their lead singer. “The guy in the cowboy outfit _was_ scoping us out. He’s from something called ‘Captain America’--it’s him, a greaser, a boy-next-door type--I think he’s their vocalist--a drummer who looks like he escaped from Margaritaville, and a hippie-looking girl on keyboards.”

“They have a reputation for rockabilly and oldies.” Jarvis, their drummer has an encyclopdic memory for talent. “I understand the guitarist and the keyboardist are twins, and the lead singer has been tight with their bass player since they were kids. Their drummer has bounced around for a while--he’s a few years older than the rest of them, and he’s spot on.”

“That’s nice for them.” As usual before a performance, Tony is bouncing up and down, impatient to unleash all that surplus energy onstage. “We’ve got our secret weapon, right, Peter?”

The young guitar prodigy is chugging a can of MonsterVenom--like he needs more energy? Natasha thinks. Unlike the rest of them, Peter is still in high school, and she feels protective of him. “They also mentioned something called the Asgardians.”

“Shit!” Tony is absolutely motionless--for a full five seconds, then he slumps. “We’re screwed.”

“Why? Their frontman? Captain America thinks--”

“Not him--Banner!”

“Oh dear,” Jarvis sighs, and Peter shares Natasha’s looks of puzzlement.

“He’s Julliard trained.” Tony starts to pace. “Brilliant on keys, almost subliminal technique…. Their singer could bray like a donkey, but with Bruce backing him up--” He shakes his head. “I need air, I’m going to run out to the RV. Back in a while.”

“He’ll be back, won’t he?” Natasha asks Jarvis after Tony’s sudden departure.

“What was that about?” Peter wants to know.

“Back when we were in high school, we started our first band: Me, Tony and Bruce Banner--but then we went away to different colleges. Iron Man fell apart for a few years, and Tony and Bruce had some kind of fight…I don’t know what it was about, but Tony was devastated. I hope he’ll hold up for the performance.”

Performance anxiety isn’t a problem for the tall, slender man standing quietly just beyond one of the curtains surrounding Iron Man’s space. He chuckles and strides along the aisle between the curtained sections to the enclosure for The Asgardians.

“I think we’ve got it, gentlemen,” he comments to his brother and their keyboardist. 

Thor fires off a few riffs. “Excellent!” What did you discover?”

“Two bands everyone has been buzzing about: Captain America is mostly young talent. Very rag-bag approach to costuming--” The Asgardians sport acres of black leather, studded. It’s neither comfortable nor cuddly, but that’s the point. “Their bass player has seen us in action, and he’s worried.” Loki means, “He’s seen _me_ in action”, but at the moment giving his bandmates encouragement is more important than preening. He can preen later, after they’ve won.

“What’s the other band?” Bruce asks him. He’s the quiet type, but Loki has to admit, when it comes to backing him when he launches into an inspired diatribe, he’s the best.

“They’re called Iron Man. It seems you know their lead singer, Tony.”

“I did. It’s been a while.” Bruce’s fingers move silently above his keyboard. He doesn’t say more, too lost in his memories, whatever they are.

Loki hates not knowing things; one of these days, he’ll have to get Bruce stoned and work the story out of him. “They have some kid--if he’s more than seventeen, I’ll eat my boots!--supposedly, he’s a virtuoso, but really, bro, I’m sure you can shred him.”

“Of course!” Thor booms. He has his game face on, Loki is pleased to see. No matter how good Stark’s boy wonder is, he doubts the lad can compete with his brother’s sheer power when it comes to wielding his axe.

Several hours later, an old van with the logo _Barnes Plumbing and Heating_ on the side pulls up to the curb in front of the only restaurant that’s still open at one a.m., a shwarma joint called The Golden Fez. The members of Captain America climb out, tired and dispirited.

On the other side of the street, the red and gold Iron Man RV pulls up to the curb and parks. The quartet trudges across to the restaurant.

The two groups nod to each other. If nothing else, defeat has united them in solidarity. 

“That was a bloodbath,” Tony groans.

“It certainly was,” Steve agrees. “That was completely awful.”

The door to the street opens and closes, and the Asgardians wander in, carrying their equipment--apparently they’re afoot.

“A pitcher of beer,” Thor says to the man behind the counter. When he sets it on the counter, Thor picks it up and starts drinking directly from the pitcher, holding it like it’s a gigantic mug. No one says anything; Clint may be filing the technique away for future reference.

Loki turns to the counterman. “Another pitcher of beer, please. _With two glasses._ ”

Tony and Bruce are looking at each other, getting closer with micro-steps, elaborately casual. 

“Hey, how’re you doing?”

“Good, and you?”

“Not bad. It’s been a while.”

“Yeah, it's--”

Then they’re in a lip-lock that seems to suck the air from the atmospere. At first, everyone tactfully pretends that they don’t see a thing, but when Tony's metallic gold pleather pants start rubbing against Bruce's black leather, Clint finally hollers, “Get a room!”

“RV,” gasps Tony, dangling the keys.

“Perfect,” Bruce agrees, wide-eyed.

Get me a doggie bag,” Tony calls over his shoulder as they depart. “A big one! We’re gonna need it!”

Loki turns back to the counterman. "I guess I'll only require one glass, after all," he comments.

“Well, at least someone’s getting lucky tonight,” Steve says, trying to smile, but it’s singularly unconvincing. 

There’s a minimum of conversation; no one wants to bring up the elephant in the room. When their meal arrives, they share, eating mechanically, too exhausted even to taste it. They’re all drained from performing and distressed by the crushing defeat they’ve suffered at the hands of the marauding deathmetal band, Thanos.

 

…


End file.
